


3 AM

by cat_77



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you need to talk, and sometimes you need a bit more than words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 AM

**Author's Note:**

> For the random_fic_is_random prompt of "Fringe, Peter/Olivia, 3 AM."

“Liv, it’s 3 in the morning, what’s going on?” Peter asked when he answered the door.

She hesitated, having not quite realized the lateness, or possibly earliness, of the hour when she finally decided to stop by. Now that she saw him though, it hit home. He stood before her in a t-shirt and sleep pants, hair ruffled in all directions, absently scratching at his stubble. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, finally gesturing to the street and her car as she managed, “Sorry, I didn’t... I’ll just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She moved to do just that, but found a heavy hand on her wrist instead. “Come in,” he insisted, tugging her lightly towards the door.

“I shouldn’t,” she protested. It was bad enough that she had obviously woke him, but to keep him up just because her own mind would not let her sleep was just plain silly. At least one of them should have a restful night, and burdening him with half-remembered dreams would definitely put a stop to that.

His eyes narrowed slightly, though she could not tell if that was from determination, or lack of sleep. “You came all the way out here for a reason. Given that you didn’t call, your badge isn’t out, and there does not appear to be any sort of apocalypse going on, I’m guessing it’s something personal. Also, it’s Fri-, Saturday now; we’ve got time,” he reasoned in a rather determined voice. Softer now, he shrugged, “Come in and I’ll make some coffee. If that doesn’t work, there’s got to be a bottle of something around here somewhere.”

She smiled and tried not to shake her head. “Just as long as it isn’t one of your father’s,” she quipped, relenting.

Peter barked out a laugh at that, moving to the side to let her in. “You never know what you’re going to get, but you know pretty much any worries you have will be gone by morning.”

“Yeah, to be replaced by something far worse,” she grinned.

“Given what we deal with on a daily basis?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“True,” she relented.

She shrugged out of her coat as he shut the door behind her. Just knowing he was willing to listen, some of the thoughts circling around in her head started to quiet. When he smiled and held up both a bag of French Roast and a bottle of whiskey, new thoughts began to shape instead.


End file.
